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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948551">The Prince Of Black</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theothergryffindor/pseuds/theothergryffindor'>theothergryffindor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Children Of Pureblood [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Idiots in Love, Legilimency (Harry Potter), M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Occlumency (Harry Potter), Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Needs a Hug, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:55:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theothergryffindor/pseuds/theothergryffindor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Only a year after branding the Dark Mark upon his forearm, Regulus Black has risen swiftly in rank to become one of Lord Voldemort’s closest confidantes. </p><p>Regulus' position as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has proved invaluable to the Dark Lord and as result the young Death Eater has been gifted with the opportunity to leave a legacy of his own upon the First Wizarding War as he begins his seventh and final year of schooling. </p><p>The youngest son of Black dreamed of nothing but proving his loyalty to the wizard he admired above all else. </p><p>Until he fell in love with a Muggle-Born.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Voldemort, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Regulus Black/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Children Of Pureblood [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You can also find The Prince of Black on Wattpad.<br/>https://www.wattpad.com/story/256082657-the-prince-of-black.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Regulus</b>
</p><p>
  <b>December 31, 1975</b>
</p><p>Regulus Black loathed his mother's parties.</p><p>He despised the grotesque display of wealth, the numerous strands of pearls that adorned the necks of his mother's peers and the diamond encrusted watches clasped around the wrists of Pureblood patriarchs.</p><p>His lungs burned as clouds of tobacco and perfume permeated throughout every room of his family's home, overwhelming his senses.</p><p>His skin crawled along with the tick of the grandfather clock—the sound a dire reminder that his father would soon disappear with a woman that was not his wife, and that his mother would drown herself in scotch as she ignored her husband's infidelity.</p><p>Perhaps, what Regulus detested most, was that he always wound up alone.</p><p>His mother's guests never brought their children along, for good reason, leaving Regulus with the only option of mingling with those decades older. They were a judgmental lot, always questioning why he let his hair grow out so long, why he’d refused the Durmstrang Institute’s pleading offer to have a Black among their ranks—</p><p>When he was a child, he used to be able to retreat into the arms of his elder brother, Sirius.</p><p>Only two months had passed since Sirius had forsaken his family for the blood traitor James Potter.</p><p>With the exception of no longer having an ally at his mother's gatherings, the absence of his brother had not affected Regulus' life in the slightest—he had lost Sirius to the band of idiots he surrounded himself with long ago.</p><p>A hushed silence fell over the study, drawing Regulus out of his thoughts. </p><p>The bodies that had congregated within the area parted to reveal the arrival of the guest Regulus had endured the entire night waiting for, the one he felt he had been waiting fourteen years for.</p><p>Lord Voldemort strode into the study, escorted by Bellatrix Lestrange.</p><p>Regulus lingered by the fireplace, silently observing the wave of bows and curtsies that the Dark Lord attracted as he greeted this congregation of his followers. Their gazes roamed over his frame hungrily, pausing upon the waves of thick, black hair, and his piercing eyes.</p><p>Voldemort’s physicality was yet another tool at his disposal.</p><p>Purebloods craved beauty and desired to be near it.</p><p>Regulus' father and mother waited patiently for their guest of honor and their niece at their son's side, their standing as the host family allowing them to remain separate from the crowd of admirers. </p><p>Regulus' eyes shifted towards Bellatrix, watching his cousin intently as she hung from Voldemort's arm. She was doe eyed, her infatuation blatantly obvious even though her husband Rodolphus stood mere feet away.</p><p>Regulus was only fourteen, but he knew a fool when he saw one. </p><p>He straightened his back as Voldemort and Bellatrix drifted over towards the fireplace and the rest of the partygoers watched with bated breath as his mother dropped low into a curtsy while he and his father bowed.</p><p>Regulus felt goosebumps rise on the back of his neck as he rose and found Voldemort's jade eyes trained solely on him.</p><p>"My Lord, it is the greatest honor to welcome you into our home." Orion Black exclaimed before turning his eyes on Bellatrix and greeting his niece with a curt, "Bella." </p><p>"Uncle." Bellatrix grinned menacingly and her eyes flicked among her three relatives. "Aunt Walburga, Regulus." Her eyes lit up with mischief at the obvious absence of Sirius. "I see your eldest has yet to return?"</p><p>Voldemort's lips curled with amusement at Bellatrix's jest. "<em>Bella</em>, show our hosts, your family, some<em>respect."</em></p><p>Orion flushed with embarrassment.</p><p>"We have but one son and one only." Walburga met Bellatrix's eyes with fury. "My Lord, Regulus is a Fourth Year at Hogwarts, Slytherin of course, and has admired your work for many years." Walburga laid a hand delicately on Regulus' shoulder, her eyes softening as she directed her gaze towards Voldemort.</p><p>"Is that so?" The Dark Lord arched an eyebrow curiously. "Tell me boy of this<em>admiration."</em></p><p>He was eyeing Regulus with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe and he gulped silently as the beat of his heart sped under the weight of the Dark Lord's gaze.</p><p>"I have a desire to specialize in Legilimency and your reputation as a Legilimens precedes you." Regulus struggled to stabilize the shaking of his voice. "They don’t teach Legilimency at Hogwarts, as you know, but I've been receiving lessons from a fellow Slytherin, Severus Snape. He is also an avid admirer of yours."</p><p>"I see." Voldemort narrowed his eyes curiously before shifting his gaze towards Bellatrix. "Bella, aid your uncle in assembling the inner circle to the drawing room, we have much to discuss, but I must steal a moment with young Regulus beforehand."</p><p>Regulus stomach tied into knots at the Dark Lord's words.</p><p>"My Lord." Orion agreed without sparing a glance towards his son, holding his arm out to Bellatrix who accepted it with reluctance. The witch was undoubtedly affronted that Voldemort didn't want her around for whatever he wanted to discuss with Regulus.</p><p>The pair strode away, Voldemort's dismissal of the host signaling to the guests gathered that the party could resume as before. Walburga squeezed Regulus' hand, pride shining in her eyes, before she too drifted away.</p><p>"Come, let's put distance between us and these sycophants." Voldemort directed Regulus to his side and the pair retreated to a corner of the study, bookcases framing their position. </p><p>The voices of the guests thundered throughout the room as they sipped eagerly on the drinks in their hands, as they pretended not to be desperately interested in what the Dark Lord would need to discuss with a fourteen-year-old boy.</p><p>"As you are aware, your parents have refused my offers to actively participate within our cause. Their monetary support has progressed our efforts nonetheless, but those that stood idly by on the sidelines will be remembered for just that—nothing less, nothing more." Voldemort's eyes roamed the guests briefly before resting on Regulus. "Where do you do fit into all of this, Regulus? Your brother has chosen his side, have you?"</p><p>"Yes." He answered without hesitation. "I have."</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"I’m not weak like my mother and father. I won’t be led astray like my brother." He asserted. "My allegiance lies with you, with the cause. Not on the sidelines, but within the fray."</p><p>"And that is what separates you from your family, that is what separates your generation from that of your parents, from my own." Voldemort explained. "You seek a purpose, a calling, not riches or power. No, you understand that those come later, but first, you must belong.”</p><p>Regulus’ heart swelled as every word the Dark Lord spoke resonated within his bones.</p><p>"Yes, my Lord." Regulus agreed wholeheartedly. "You will find you have many supporters among the youth at Hogwarts, inside and outside Slytherin."</p><p>"Good, good. Gather those that wish to join our cause, remember their names, their faces." Voldemort set his mouth determinedly. "Can you do that? Can I trust you, Regulus?"</p><p>"Always."</p><p>"Splendid." The Dark Lord's lips curled with delight. "Now I must leave for the drawing room, but, before I do, I must ask something of you." He motioned for Regulus to promenade with him around the study. "There is a traitor among us this evening, someone that been passing information regarding my recruitments efforts along to the Ministry." </p><p>Regulus' eyes widened as he and the Dark Lord paced the furthest edges of the study, away from the swarm of guests.</p><p>Voldemort eyed Regulus out of his peripheral. "I am aware of their identity, but what I am curious about is, are you?"</p><p>Panic ran through Regulus' veins. "My Lord?"</p><p>"I sensed your abilities the moment I stepped into the room, do not underestimate your power.” Voldemort asserted. "You are an observant boy, identify the traitor."</p><p>With a slight nod of understanding, Regulus focused on those nearby.</p><p>To the average eye, there wouldn’t be much of a difference found from one witch and wizard to the next. They were of the most prestigious Wizarding families, decorated with wealth and blessed with beauty. They moved through life seamlessly with privilege, an air of arrogance and superiority weaved within their auras.</p><p>Regulus' gaze was drawn towards the wizard that had caught his attention earlier.</p><p>"Mikael Blishwick." Regulus declared. "He bowed to you when you entered but he refused to meet your eyes. He's been watching your every move since you arrived and is on his fourth glass of firewhiskey. He's nervous but it's more than that, he's afraid—afraid because he knows he won't be leaving here alive."</p><p>Voldemort's grin of approval was serpentine.</p><p>"We're going to work well together, you and I."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope the prologue has left you lovely people wanting more from dear Regulus! </p><p>This story will be continued sporadically until The Other Golden Girl has been finished, as The Prince of Black is the prequel to that story, but after that weekly updates will become the norm. </p><p>Much love. xo.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Regulus, are you aware of a rare bit of magic known as a Horcrux? I do not expect you to be.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I am not, my Lord.”</em>
</p><p><em>“It’s an object, an object in which a piece of one’s soul is concealed, and has been deemed unspeakably wicked by those that pollute the highest ranks of our society.” </em> </p><p>
  <em>“A piece of one’s soul? What is the purpose of such magic?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Even if one’s body is destroyed, the Horcrux remains. The piece of their soul within the object continues to tether them to this world, a sort of immortality and promise of resurrection, if you will.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How is a Horcrux created?” </em>
</p><p><em>“The soul must be split.” </em> </p><p><em>“And how does one split their soul?”</em> </p><p>
  <em>“Murder.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“To promise afterlife, you must take a life." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, Regulus, and that is how you will create one." </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Vendetta</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Regulus</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>September 1, 1978</strong>
</p><p>Regulus’ left forearm burned terribly as he strode into the Great Hall with the rest of Slytherin.</p><p>He fiddled with the cuff of his robe sleeve and dug his nails onto his palm, imprinting half-moons onto his skin to redirect the sting.</p><p>It was the only relief he could allow himself as the Hogwarts faculty traced his every step from behind the High Table, a mixture of warmth and suspicion behind their eyes.</p><p>He glanced over his shoulder at the hoard of students that followed his every step, a synchronized, never-parting sea of emerald and black.</p><p>As a Seventh Year, and a Prefect, it was his honorific duty, his responsibility, to lead his House. He was expected to be a model student, a trophy to be dusted off and paraded about to ignite inspiration.</p><p>He used to aspire to such roles, such significance.</p><p>Now, he couldn’t give a fuck less. </p><p>Regulus, as well as the rest of the Seventh Years, were the first to sit at the enormous, mahogany table designated for Slytherin—a formality only enforced during the Welcoming Feast—and the rest of the House soon followed suit, the Second Years slowly bringing up the rear.</p><p>He reached for a goblet to his left, the cup filled to the brim with pumpkin juice. He tightened his fingers around the stem and a searing sensation shot through his arm as he lifted the goblet to his lips—a sharp, vicious pain that threatened to render him unconscious.</p><p>He hissed through gritted teeth as he summoned every ounce of strength he had left to not drop the goblet, to not let it clatter to the floor and scream from agony as he removed the<em>Disillusionment Charm</em>he’d placed upon his Dark Mark.</p><p>Voldemort had warned him of this when he’d first taken the Mark a year prior, of the Mark’s initial reaction to being forced to hide. He’d even gone as far to suggest that Regulus wait until after he’d completed his education to have it branded upon his skin, a rare display of concern the Dark Lord reserved for a chosen few.</p><p>The offer of the Dark Mark, the opportunity to join the Dark Lord’s inner circle, had proved too desirable for his sixteen-year-old self to resist.</p><p>Regulus could handle the pain, handle the discomfort that would remain once the Mark adjusted to the<em>Disillusionment Charm</em>as it did last year. He could handle it all if it meant that this feeling of belonging continued to bloom within his chest, if it meant that this assurance of purpose continued to fuel the fire within his veins.</p><p>The pumpkin juice slipped past his lips, the achingly sweet taste on his tongue momentarily distracting as the last of Slytherin found their place at the table, signaling Ravenclaw’s imminent arrival.</p><p>They strode into the Hall, a melting pot of bronze and blue, and Regulus slammed his goblet back onto the table as his gaze shifted towards a particular Seventh Year that had placed herself at the apex of the group.</p><p>She held her head high, a confident smile plastered upon her face, and her golden hair, tied up with a ribbon, bounced fervently as she drifted towards her House table. Regulus’ eyes traced the wavy strands that slipped past her shoulders, regretful that he couldn’t set them aflame.</p><p>She glanced towards the Slytherin table and their eyes locked, her face flushing crimson once she noticed the scowl upon his face. She twisted her features to match his, her lips curling with disgust as if he was little more than the dirt beneath her shoe.</p><p>Regulus wanted to hex that expression of disdain right off her face, leave her in the Hospital Wing for a week or two.</p><p>But, for the time being, he would simply stew over how much he fucking loathed Florence Erwood.</p><p>She was a scourge upon his existence, a smug Mudblood blessed with a magical talent for Charms and Divination that rivaled that of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Slytherin and Ravenclaw were often paired for the subjects, giving Regulus a front row seat to Florence’s nauseating exceptionality for the past six years.</p><p>He wanted her dead.</p><p>Grievously.</p><p>Their gazes remained glued upon one another until Florence chose her seat, turning her back on Regulus. He tore his eyes away from her with an irritated grumble, but not until he’d sufficiently burned holes into the back of her blonde head with his glare.</p><p>A few minutes passed before Hufflepuff began to flood into the Hall, a carefree, cheery rush of yellow and black.</p><p>At the sight of the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, another Seventh Year seated to Regulus’ right, Lucinda Bulstrode, began to ramble into his ear about her plans for Quidditch tryouts as if it wasn’t only the first day of term.</p><p>Regulus had been Slytherin’s starting Seeker since Third Year, and while he still held a regard for the game, plotting out his House’s path to victory for the Inter-House Quidditch Cup was the lowest of the low on his list of priorities.</p><p>He had much more substantial things to worry about, to achieve.</p><p>So, he shut Lucinda up with a curt, “We’ll talk about this later,” and refocused upon the flood of students.</p><p>A wave of gold and scarlet trickled into the Hall after Hufflepuff.</p><p>Gryffindor.</p><p>Vile, repulsive Gryffindor.</p><p>Despite knowing that he would not find his brother among their ranks, Regulus still searched for Sirius.</p><p>He searched for the face of a young man that resembled his own, for the face of a young man that had not only turned his back on his family but had deserted his brother without remorse.</p><p>Rumor was that Sirius was now an active member of the “secret” organization the Order of the Phoenix—an unsurprising revelation as his brother had been enjoying the company of blood traitors and Mudbloods for years.  </p><p>Regulus dreamt of showing his brother just how powerful he’d become, dreamt of the merciful plea that would leave Sirius’ lips when he overpowered his magic.  </p><p>That was the retribution he sought, the retribution he craved.</p><p>As if sensing his malicious intent, the Mark calmed ever so slightly.</p><p>Soon afterwards, the First Years anxiously stumbled into the Hall, escorted by Professor McGonagall, and the sound of Florence’s obnoxious laughter drew Regulus’ eyes back towards her.</p><p>She had shifted to her side to observe the First Years as they passed by, glancing ever so often at the witch behind her. The girl whispered into Florence’s ear as McGonagall reached the steps up to the podium and her laugh echoed throughout the Hall once more.</p><p>Regulus clenched his fists as her hair swayed to the beat of her laughter.</p><p>He wanted to curl his fingers around her blonde strands and pull until she screamed, until she begged him to let go.</p><p>In the past, her presence had been nothing but a cruel reminder. A reminder of the family his brother had formed during his years as a student at this godforsaken castle, the family that he’d cast aside his blood for.</p><p>Presently, however, the sight of her did manage to bring Regulus a semblance of joy. It was a twisted sort of cheer that was brought about at the thought of her being forced to spend one last year at Hogwarts without the miscreants and egomaniacs she’d bonded herself to.</p><p>She would be on her own this year, just as he would be.</p><p>Within Slytherin, he was respected—he was a Pureblood, a Black—but he’d never formed the sort of long-lasting friendships that the Prefects had droned on and on about during his First Year.</p><p>Not that he had tried to.</p><p>He preferred solitude. </p><p>The only connection that he had formed over the years had been with Severus Snape, but that had only been over their mutual interest in the Dark Arts and over their desire to join the Dark Lord’s ranks.</p><p>Severus had graduated the year before, leaving Regulus as the only intellectual within Slytherin.</p><p>Severus was odd, his obsession with Lily Evans proof of that, but he’d been interested in discussing more than which House would throw the first afterparty of the Quidditch season and who had shagged who within an alcove the night before.</p><p>Most of Hogwarts were blissfully ignorant of the war occurring outside the castle.</p><p>Dumbledore approached the podium, signifying to Regulus that the Sorting Ceremony had passed without his notice. He groaned inwardly at the sight of the old man—the Headmaster’s Welcome Feast speeches were always his most dramatic.</p><p>As Dumbledore droned on and on, Regulus once again found his gaze magnetized towards Florence.</p><p>She’d been listening intently to the Headmaster, her eyes sparkling with disgusting admiration as she observed the wizard. She noticed Regulus out of her peripheral and seemed to groan with annoyance as their eyes met once more.</p><p>He expected her to break the contact, but surprisingly, her sapphire orbs remained glued to his stormy skies, and they narrowed with distaste as if she could read the atrocities that crossed his mind.</p><p>Regulus’ lips curled with delight at her persistence.</p><p>He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes briefly before returning his gaze to hers more intensely than before, drowning out the sound of Dumbledore’s booming voice and the quiet chatter of the students.</p><p>He held back a sigh as his spirit left his body and entered hers, the release associated with the use of Legilimency a near sensual experience.</p><p>Florence’s eyes widened once she felt his presence.</p><p>He pressed upon her mind, cracks appearing on the surface from his siege—</p><p>Without warning, his grip on her mind was seized by an invisible hand and catapulted outward.</p><p>He stifled a gasp as his spirit slammed back into his body harshly, the air knocked from his lungs by the impact.</p><p>Her lips curled into a prideful grin at his distress and Regulus’ blood boiled as yet another layer of Florence Erwood was revealed.</p><p>She was an Occlumens—one powerful enough to resist even his weakest attempt to penetrate her mind.  </p><p>His personal vendetta to ruin her life just became all the more challenging. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm hoping to post an update for this story every other week or so, but The Other Golden Girl is still my primary focus for now. </p><p>But, God, do I love Regulus. </p><p>Much love. xo.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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